Death Among the Pines

By Frank Hibbs

A murder mystery novel about the trials and tribulations of a County Sheriff in Western Arkansas beset with a murder case he must solve involving the murder of his best friends wife. The murder occurs in a local lovers lane and solving the strange case involves many twists and turns in the life of the local community around the county seat where the best friend of the Sheriff is the judge and a political power in the county.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 10, 2007
• ISBN: 9781462830244

Frank Hibbs

Frank Hibbs was born and raised in Sevier County in southwestern Arkansas, the son of a lumberjack. Drafted in 1944 he served with the Army in WWII as an infantryman with 3rd Army in the ETO. Reenlisting he became a B-29 Flight Engineer in the Air Force and few 21 combat missions in the Korean War. He ended his 21-year service in the military with the Strategic Air Command flying b-36's and C-124's. Married with two children he worked thirty years as an electronic technician in industry and retired in 1992. After retirement he began painting and writing all types of fiction.

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Copyright © 2007 by Frank Hibbs.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER ONE

The old river road wended its way westward along the northern side of a pine tree forested hill that sloped gently upward until it created a ridgeline a mile away to the south. On the north side of the road, the pine forest spread flat and dense for many miles with narrow dim traces of deep rutted dirt logging roads winding among the trees. Old River Road was old because it had been replaced by a modern highway located many miles to the south.

The tall Pine Trees growing along both sides of old river road shaded the black asphalt roadway from the hot afternoon sun like a green canopy, creating a shaded tunnel through the dense forest of pine trees. The old road wended its way through the dense forest toward the Blue River three miles away where the forest ended and rolling pastureland began west of the stream. A tourist visitor to the area, a woman, once remarked that it was hard to, Visualize this peaceful scene as the setting for a cold bloodied murder.

On the ill-fated day, the touring woman speculated about, the bluish haze of the atmosphere among the pine trees in the hot afternoon had created a lonesome, almost eerie mood beneath the tall trees. The turpentine odor of pine tree rosin heated by the summer sun scented the gentle breeze wafting among the trees with an odor that only a pine forest can have. After a hot August afternoon, the bright summer day drifted slowly toward sunset with bluish, hazy shafts of sunlight still slanting between the tall pine trees. When the yellowish setting sun reached a half hour above the edge of the horizon, it seemed to hover before going down.

A rutted dirt side road broke away from the paved road to curve up the hill through an open iron pipe gate into a flattened area created when dirt was excavated from the side of the hill to use for fill on the main road. The side road ended abruptly in a trash dump in the flattened area above Old River Road screened by small pine saplings.

A dove cooed its lonesome call somewhere upslope from the trash dump adding a sad, forlorn note to the fading day. Somewhere nearby a woodpecker hammered a machinegun like staccato on the trunk of a pine tree, searching for a borer worm lurking under the tree bark before the light failed completely.

Into this tranquil evening setting there intruded sounds that portended human disruption of this peaceful scene along the pine forested hillside. The sound of a truck engine drifted down the slope of the hill followed shortly by the sound of a vehicle door slamming. Three mule deer, two does and a fawn, raced away from the sound and disappeared into the dense brush. Soon bushes pushed aside by a walking man caused a swishing, slapping noise and the sound of a curse rang out when the walking man scraped a saw briar vine.

Soon a large bulky man wearing a felt hat and dark sunglasses emerged out of the low brush under the tall pine trees upslope and rummaged in the nearby trash dump. He pulled a bottomless lawn chair and a piece of plywood toward the bole of a nearby large pine tree just inside the woods above the trash dump. The ominous, mysterious man fashioned a seat from the material, sat down, leaned back against the tree, and quietly began his wait. A large automatic pistol stuck under his waist belt could barely be seen against his dark clothing. He arose briefly to arrange a brush screen between himself and the flat area he watched. Eventually he removed the pistol from his waist belt and laid it in his lap.

A stray breeze whispered through the top branches of the pines and seemed to sigh in relief that the hot summer day was ending. In this eerie time just before sunset, death settled quietly among the pine trees beside the grimly determined man. Death would wait patiently with the shadowy figure of the man for the two lovers to arrive then propel him into violent action.

The sunlight still touched the green tops of the trees but the evening shadows grew deeper and more mysterious in the grove of tall pines. The sun settled below the horizon and made objects hard to discern in the evening twilight. After the sunset, a whippoorwill made its odd cry and added to the eerie mood among the pines. A rustle in the brush behind him caused the man to look back in time to see an armadillo waddle away up the slope as though fleeing for its life.

The killer sat quietly beneath the tall pine tree waiting patiently for the arrival of his victims. He knew for sure they would soon arrive to begin their torrid affair under the dark green branches of the pines that arched over the level area below his position. The reason they were meeting out here in the deep woods dismayed him and caused a twisting, sinking sensation in his vitals.

The killer arrived at what he estimated would be about half an hour before the arrival of the two trysting lovers at their planned trysting place. When he had accidentally overheard their plans he was hurt at first that the woman that meant so much to him would allow such a thing. He then became enraged at her unfaithfulness and the dark hateful plan was hatched in his mind. His lips curled in disdain as he mulled over in his mind the hatred he had for his intended victims.

The wind in the pine treetops seemed to sigh again, this time in acceptance of the horrendous event that was fated to occur soon beneath the pines. The after sundown lightning in the forest around the killer seemed to dim in horrified anticipation of the cruel act soon to come.

The killers mind idly drifted to his pickup truck parked about five hundred yards behind him over the low ridge on a lumber company dirt road. The dim access road the lumber company had cut into the grove of trees when they worked in the stand of timber was ideal as an escape route. He reasoned the pickup was far enough away and out of view of the open, level space where the lovers would park after they pulled off the Old River Road to enjoy their tryst.

He adjusted his felt hat until it shaded his eyes better. A long-sleeved dark brown shirt covered his upper body and dark aviator style sunglasses hid his eyes. His hands were calloused and dark tanned like a man who worked in the sun a lot.

The open space littered with trash at one end he watched so patiently was a few yards upslope from the Old River Road and screened from the view of any passersby on the road by thick bushes and small pine saplings. Some trash piled at one end of the open space looked like a very recent dumping. The area was spacious enough for an auto to turn around after entering the area by backing up and pulling forward several times. The space before the trash dump was the two lovers favorite place to park for a consultation before going home, according to a conversation between his prey he had accidentally eavesdropped on earlier in the day.

The old metal lawn chair with a rusted out seat he sat on squeaked when he shifted position. The piece of old plywood he had salvaged from the nearby trash pile to cover the hole in its seat was rough and uncomfortable to his rear. He had placed the old chair with its back braced against the pine tree so its rust weakened frame would not collapse under his two hundred and twenty pound weight when he leaned back. A quick glance at his watch told him his prey should arrive soon if they were coming at all. He idly calculated he had been waiting about thirty minutes since he arrived and finished his several preparations.

He picked up the pistol he had lain in his lap and carefully checked it over again. The gun was a 45 caliber automatic pistol, vintage 1918 US Army issue. Ejecting the clip, he checked its load of cartridges then reinserted it into the butt of the gun. When the clip snapped into place, he reasoned that the eight rounds of ball ammunition in the clip should be enough for his purpose. He put the pistols safety to on, pulled the slide back, released it to snap forward again and load a round into the chamber, ready to fire. He checked the safety again then laid the well-oiled and heavily blued pistol back in his lap. He extracted a pair of tight fitting, brown leather gloves from his hip pocket, and laid them with the gun in his lap.

He hoped the two he had decided to kill would arrive before it became real dark so there would be some light to make sure it was his intended quarry before he moved on them. He was very familiar with the act he intended to commit but it had been years since he had killed anyone. If they did not show, or someone else parked in the lover’s lane, he would quietly walk back upslope the five hundred yards to his pickup and slip away unseen. The pickup parked on a long slope would allow him to silently coast almost to the county road on the other side of the ridge from, Old River Road before it needed the engine started.

Mosquitoes began to buzz around his head when the insects began their own hunt for victims in the deepening shadows just after sundown. He slapped at one on his neck and crushed the biting insect with his fingers. The mosquito had drawn his blood and he wiped the bloody remains of the insect from his fingers on the piece of plywood he sat on. The flying insects began to attack in earnest until he had to brush them from his hands and soon the plywood had five smears of blood mingled with dead mosquitoes upon its rough surface. Five, he chuckled sourly, that makes me an ace. I should have brought a can of repellent. A hungry deer tick with a dot on its back stuck to his leg and sucked his blood before he discovered it, which he scored in his mind as a tank. The tick also joined the mosquitoes as a bloody smear on the plywood.

Sundown came but enough light remained for the waiting killer to see into the parking area clearly. A pale, almost full moon had already risen in the east and gleamed through the pine treetops. A hunting owl hooted down toward the river creating an eerie feeling in the grove of pines.

The sound of an approaching auto on the road sent a thrill of excitement coursing along the waiting man’s nerves. He quickly drew on the gloves, picked up the gun and prepared to stand behind his screen of cut brush if the auto turned into the parking area.

The approaching auto turned off the river road and entered the side road that led to the parking area with its headlights lightning up the low bushes ringing the area and the trash heap at the end. The waiting figure removed the dark glasses with one hand for better vision in the dimming light and placed them in a shirt pocket. He stood up and moved behind the trunk of the pine tree for better concealment and a clearer view of the level parking area. He allowed only his head to protrude past the side of the tree trunk that could be seen from the parking area.

A dark red sedan with its lights on traveled the short distance to the turn around area near the trash dump. The woman driver quickly turned the car around until the front faced back toward the river road then stopped in the middle of the open, level area with the engine running in idle and turned the headlights off.

The man sitting beside her opened the passenger side door and got out to stand drinking from a soft drink can and surveying the area and listening for any sound. Standing bare headed in the dim after sundown light, he was revealed as thin spare man with a pleasant face, dressed in a business suit. He dropped the soft drink can on the ground beside the car then removed his coat and placed it on the seat he had just vacated. He stood away from the car listening again while he loosened his necktie with his free hand.

Better go close the barrier, Dale, the woman murmured.

Yea, we don’t need any company, came his answer.

Necktie flapping loosely the spare man walked hurriedly back toward the turn off point and faded from the killers view. The sound of rusty hinges protesting at forced movement followed by a muted clang told the killer that Dale had reached the hinged movable barrier made from rusty metal pipe and closed it. He knew there was a sign attached to the metal barrier that read, No Trespassing—No Dumping. The lumber company had erected the hinged barrier and put a lock on it to keep people from dumping in the area. The lock stayed broken, the barrier gaped open all the time, and lovers used the area for their romantic trysts.

When Dale reappeared walking toward the car the woman left the engine running, opened the driver’s side door and stood watching him approach. She was a very shapely auburn haired woman with lovely facial features dressed in a woman’s light colored business suit. She emptied a soft drink can and dropped it to the ground beside the car then loosened the buttons on her coat and like the man removed it and placed it on the front seat of the sedan. When Dale reached her, they embraced, kissed briefly, and then held each other close, talking.

Damn Betty Jo I thought the day would never end. Why did old man Hess keep you in his office so long? Dale whined.

He likes to touch while he is pointing out the errors of my accounting methods. A little twist of my tail at the right moment and the errors in my methods become very small, Betty Jo replied.

The old fart made us late getting here, now we have to hurry, Lois will be mad as hell if she beats me home tonight, Dale averred.

Bet she doesn’t get home from the nursing home before ten, Dale, she never does. Don’t get in a big hurry lover; life is too short for that, she chided him.

I wish you would let me arrange to have a motel room ready over in Nashland instead of always getting it on in the back seat of your car, Dale griped.

This is the way I like it lover, end of conversation, Betty Jo decreed.

All right but let’s get into the back seat, I’ve been aching for you all day, Dale exalted.

Without another word, the woman opened the back door of the sedan and scooted across the seat until the man could follow her. He entered and pulled the car door half closed behind him, laughing as he patted her bottom. Soon the watching killer could see in the dim glow of the dome light that she was gathering her skirt around her waist and removing her underwear. He heard Betty Jo warn Dale to take his pants off because she Didn’t want to get scraped by his oversize belt buckle.

Gun clutched in his right hand, the killer left the concealing trunk of the tree and crept toward the car. He paused and waited until the car door clicked shut and the dome light went out. The low murmuring voices heard above the idling car engine told him they were now heavily engaged in what they had come out here into the woods for. When the murmuring voices indicated that climax was near and the two lovers would be unlikely to notice his approach, the killer moved furtively forward

When he reached the car, he jerked the left rear door open and the automatic dome light came on again. Two startled faces turned and looked in his direction with wide, fear filled eyes. Dale scrambled into one corner of the rear seat after grabbing his trousers from the floor of the car. Betty Jo lay on her back, frozen in fear resting on her elbows until she saw the intruders face in the dome light’s glow then she gasped out, You! What the hell are you doing out here?

Dry mouthed the killer only rasped out, You bitch, shoved the pistol’s muzzle toward her chest, thumbed the safety off and pulled the trigger twice. Betty Jo’s body jerked violently when the two loud reports from the pistol signaled that two heavy slugs from the weapon had struck her in the chest and she began to die. The killer turned to Dale and grated out, Asshole, and pulled the trigger two more times. Two large slugs entered Dale’s chest, smashed through his heart and he slumped dying in the corner of the car seat.

The killer stood erect beside the car, listened intently for any unusual noise on the road or surrounding woods then stooped again and looked back in at his victims. He removed the left hand glove with his teeth and let the glove dangle from his mouth. Stooping he reached across the seat and methodically checked for a pulse in Betty Jo’s throat and found none. Betty Jo’s white blouse still gleamed whitely but marred with two black bullet holes with blood staining the white cloth a deep red. Dale, slumped in his corner, was bleeding very little from his two wounds and a quick check for a pulse at his neck indicated he was dead also.

The killer absentmindedly noted that one bullet had nicked Dales extended right hand then passed through the bright necktie hanging loosely around his neck. The killer slowly donned his left hand glove, put the pistol’s safety on; halfcocked the weapon then stuck it back under his belt at the waist. He reached into the front seat and turned the ignition key to off and the idling engine and humming air conditioner became silent.

Now to make it look like a kidnapping or a rape or just a killing, he muttered aloud. Got to get asshole Dale out of here and to my truck and go bury him. Sweet Betty Jo can stay just like she is until someone finds her.

After deciding on his course of action, he reached across the front seat and secured Dales coat, pulled the corpse from the car by one hand and let it flop on the ground. He noted that there was very little blood flowing from Dale and reasoned that the bullets had ranged downward and all the bleeding was inside the guy. Just like a deer I killed once, he thought, just a little blood outside, all inside. He picked up the trousers and tied them around the half-nude corpse’s waist covering the bleeding bullet holes. Dale’s wallet fell out of the trousers pocket and the killer scooped it up and placed it in his own pocket. Making a shoulder pad from Dale’s coat, he shouldered the corpse easily.

He surveyed the scene one more time then turned and started the over five hundred yard hike to reach his pickup. The moonlight from the already risen moon gave him adequate light to pick his way through the heavily forested pine grove. Small animals out foraging in the moonlight scurried away as he plodded up the rise and over the ridge. A few deer feeding in the moonlight near the top of the low ridge, raced away through the low brush as he came close to them.

He was panting from the exertion of carrying Dale the hundreds of yards uphill when the bulk of his pickup showed up in the moonlight. The pickup was just as he had left it; poised on the down slope on the dim logging road, ready to flee the scene. The dirt logging road was deeply rutted but was passable for the heavy-duty pickup with its powerful diesel engine, front wheel drive, and oversize tires.

Approaching the rear of the vehicle, he opened the small door that gave access to the closed cover of the pickup’s truck bed and roughly dumped Dale’s body from his shoulder into the enclosure. He secured a blanket from a box under a passenger seat and wrapped the body in it until no part of it was visible. He exited the enclosure, fastened the small door, locked it, and then stood silent and motionless listening for any sign of a disturbance in the nearby forest. The owl hooted once more down by the river.

Satisfied he was completely alone he opened the door to the driver’s seat and sat under the steering wheel. He placed the pistol in the trucks glove compartment, removed the gloves, and placed them on the seat beside him. He held his work calloused hands under the dash light and noted they were steady as a rock as he inserted the ignition key in its slot to start the engine

After starting the engine, he turned on the headlights, released the brakes, and drove toward the county road some two miles away. He growled out aloud as he drove along, Where I am going to bury that asshole Dale he will never be found. The thought’s of what he was going to do with the body of the man he hated and had killed brought a crooked smile to his face that remained even after he reached the main highway and accelerated into the night.

In the small city of DeQuincy, Donald Horn and Connie Blake glided around the oval of the roller rink, synchronizing their body movements to the music blaring from loudspeakers. Side-by-side with their arms holding each other close the two youths gracefully skated to the music blaring from the loudspeakers mounted on the walls. The roar generated by the skates of the multitude of skaters made talk difficult and the loud music also discouraged conversation. They had earlier spent the afternoon in the city of DeQuincy’s public swimming pool, keeping cool as possible in the hot summer afternoon. After leaving the public swimming pool, they had a burger and fries at a local fast food joint and then began finishing their Friday date skating at the Moulin Rogue skating rink. Donald and Connie